


Sanguine Visions

by SummerLeighWind (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Death, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SummerLeighWind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of One-Shots written for the "Make a Potion 101" challenge on the "Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges" forum on FF.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanguine Visions

Gordie looked to the sky that lay past the kitchen's window pane. It was his favorite color, an orange-yellow that reminded him of pumpkins. Him, Papa, Arabella, and Megan used to watch the sun set during the summer. Now, though, Mummy was being extra strict and wouldn't let him leave the house alone for _anything_. Sometimes, when they were together, they didn't go out even then.

Maybe, though, if Gordie pleaded just right she'd let him sit on the stoop outside to watch. Turning his head, Gordie looked to his Mummy. She was busy charming the leftovers from dinner to stay fresh. Craning his neck, Gordie saw that in the drawing room his Papa was writing a letter again. He wondered who it was to this time. Yesterday, it'd been a retired coworker. The day before that, an old Hogwarts chum. Gordie didn't know a lot, but he was pretty sure all of them lived someplace besides England given a few of the funny addresses Papa gave his owl before sending them off.

He was pretty sure it was because Mummy wanted him to, that Papa was writing so many different people. She was always asking him if he'd heard back from any of the people he'd wrote when the post came. Gordie didn't know why it was so important that Papa heard back, but Mummy and Papa had been having a lot of talks behind silent-charmed doors lately. So, if nothing else, he knew that it was for a grown-up reason.

Sometimes, Gordie wondered if he should be worried about how often his parents closed their bedroom door to talk. It had been an ever growing thing since Megan and Arabella went back to Hogwarts and almost daily since last week, but Mummy and Papa didn't act _too_ odd outside of that. Yes, Mummy didn't let him go outside to play anymore and yes, Papa was writing a lot of letters, but those things didn't seem to have much of a connection as far as Gordie could see. Maybe, when Papa wasn't so busy sending his own owls, he could sneak a letter to Arabella and Megan. Gordie had gotten really good at writing this past summer and he was sure they'd be able to understand his questions and answer back.

But that was a mission for another day. Today, all Gordie Montgomery wanted was to sit outside to watch the sunset (and pick a flower for Mummy, if any were close to the house).

Turning back to his Mummy, he called, "Can I go outside an' watch the sunset?"

"No."

Gordie pouted. "Please? With sugar and a cherry on top?"

Mummy's fingers tightened on her wand and her lips curved down. "Gordon," she warned.

Undeterred, Gordie pressed on. "Please Mummy! I haven't gotten to since Megan and Arabella went back to Hogwarts! I'll be real good and sit on the stoop the whole time!"

She sighed loudly. Running a hand across her face, Mummy finally relented. "Okay. You may watch the sunset as long as you stay on the stoop."

Gordie grinned. Doing a little jig, he cheered.

Eyes bright, Mummy said, "Go on outside now, or you'll miss it."

"Thank you, Mummy!" Gordie yelled before sprinting out the backdoor.

* * *

"Gordie!" May shouted, pacing round her home in search of her son. Biting into her arm to suppress a sob, May strained her tear-warped eyes to see _something_ in the dim light of twilight. But there was nothing there. The deceptively clear horizon gave no clues to where her little boy could have gone. Coming to the corner of her family's home, she wondered if her husband had any better luck searching the thicket of trees about a meter out from their home's backyard.

May knew she should have never let Gordie leave her sight – especially after her encounter in Diagon Alley. Yet… Gordie had been such a _good boy_ these past couple of weeks. Never asking why he couldn't go outside, why Papa was writing so many letters, or what she and Papa were talking about behind their bedroom door. Some might think it was because of her Crabbe blood he was oblivious, but May knew that was far from the case. Gordie was a smart, smart boy. He saw what was happening, he _knew_ something was going on, yet he let it be; trusting that she and his papa would bring him in on the secret when the timing was right.

He'd always been like that, trusting, patient. Two beautiful traits that were all his papa's and something that brought her no small amount of relief. Absently, May thought back to when she had been told she had a _boy_ by the Healer who delivered Gordie. In the moment (and for some time after) May had feared that the innate Crabbe viciousness would manifest itself in her son in a way it never had with the girls. She feared this even more upon seeing him. Unlike his sisters, he had not been a quiet, tiny, bald-headed newborn, but a squalling, dark-haired, chubby thing. May had felt as if she'd gone back in time for a moment, that she was seeing her little brother in the Healer's arms, not her baby. Luckily, Gordie had proven her fears wrong just over two years later.

When their family said goodbye to Arabella at King's Cross. Megan had begun to cry, after the train left, finally showing how truly devastated she was to see her best friend leave her behind. May had clucked her tongue and began to open her arms to her daughter when Gordie took Megan's hand and kissed it. " _It okay,_ " he had said to his sister, blue eyes deep and soulful. " _Me, Mummy, and Papa love you too._ "

May had been left speechless, but in a very good way. After that day, she never worried about which blood had won out in her son.

Shaking her head to pull herself from the memory, May refocused on _why_ she had let Gordie go out on his own. 'Oh, yes, because nothing else has happened since that day. Because he had been a good boy until tonight. Because he was only asking to sit on the step. Because I didn't want to listen to his whinging while I cleaned up dinner!' she thought angrily.

Now headed in the direction of the thicket, her heartbeat picked up pace at a man's pained cry. "Alexander!" she howled. Reaching in her robe's pocket, May pulled out her wand as she raced toward the trees. Crashing through the brush only moments later, she gasped at what she found.

In the middle of a small clearing, an ugly, blood-splattered man stood above her wounded husband. Looking toward her with jaundiced eyes, he grinned, revealing sharp, pinkish teeth.

"Hello there," he purred.

May raised her wand.

He laughed. "Now, now," he tutted, "there's no need for that – not that it would help you any – I've done what I came to do." Looking meaningfully to her panting husband and then jutting his thumb toward something behind him, he said, "This is what happens when you refuse a perfectly _nice_ invitation."

Blood thrumming in her ears, she hissed, "You _bastard_!" before shooting off a hex.

Dodging it, the man continued to grin at her. "When they ask, because they _will_ , tell them it was Fenrir Greyback who killed your son and husband." With that said, he jumped out of the way of one last curse she sent toward him before popping out of existence.

May let out a shrill cry. Her legs went to jelly beneath her. Tears pouring from her eyes now, she crawled over to coughing husband's side. "Alexander…" she whimpered, taking his hand. His shirt was drenched with blood – likely thanks to his missing cheek. Pale beneath the blood, he stared up at her with glassy eyes, and gurgled, "G-Gordie… O-Okay?"

She bit her lip. Shoulders hitching, May whimpered, "I don't–"

Brow furrowing, he raised his free hand in the direction of what was surely their son's corpse and urged, "Go!"

While her baby was surely dead by now from blood loss and the last thing she wanted was to see his mangled body, May was not going to refuse what may be her husband's final wish. Sniffing noisily, she nodded. "Okay, Alexander."

Getting up, May staggered over to her son. She wailed at the sight of his missing throat. Her _baby_! Falling to her knees, she touched his still warm cheeks, brushed a shaky hand through his hair. Suddenly, Gordie's eyelashes fluttered. Gasping, May stood up. He was _alive_! Adrenaline and hope mixing together, she shot up and yelled, "He's alive, Alexander! He's alive! I'll go get help! Just – Just –"

'Hold on.'

She didn't bother to finish aloud, however, already racing toward her family's home. Once inside, she teetered to a stop in front of their fireplace. Grabbing a handful of floo powder without care for how wasteful it was to be using so much, she hardly threw it down before she was sticking her head in the fire to make a call to St. Mungo's.

Less than two minutes later, a trio of healers were in her living room. Five minutes later, she was following them to St. Mungo's. Ten minutes later, she was crying into an assistant healer's shoulder after being told that her son had passed. Twenty minutes later, a healer came and informed her Alexander would survive. An hour later, she thought of her daughters. Two hours later, she began to compose a letter to send their Head of House. Two hours and five minutes later, her letter was ruined by her tears. Three hours later, and two ruined letters later, she was told she could sit with her husband. Five hours later, she finally finished a letter. Five and half hours later, she asked an assistant healer to owl it for her. Six hours later, May began to wonder how she was going to survive, knowing that her son's death and husband's disfigurement was her fault.

Four thousand and five hundred hours later, a war won, her son's killer and husband's attacker captured, and undoubtedly destined for the kiss, May Montgomery felt no better. Gordie was still dead, Alexander still scarred, and it was _still_ her fault. The downfall of the cause that hurt them had changed nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please leave a comment and/or kudo to let me know what you think:)


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